


ZAP!!

by zzzzzzzo



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 12:17:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5496773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zzzzzzzo/pseuds/zzzzzzzo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Young Karkat Vantas is prepared to do something regrettable, with scars that never leave. John does not intend to let this fly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	ZAP!!

**Author's Note:**

> whoooooa, whatt?? another fanfic by me? that's crazy!! i haven't written one in ages, and i've been less into johnkat lately, but i started this one like a year ago, back when john first got his zappy powers, and i figured i'd finish it idk.. hope ya like it! :)

The scene is picturesque, truly. Through your window you can see a scene bathed in vivid moonlight, sending scattering shadows and across your lawnring and causing stark contrast to flit about the area. Each sharply defined grass blade looks to have the point of a knife. Maybe not quite are sharp the one you hold in a shaking hand.

It’s annoying, really. You deserve this. It’s not enough, not nearly enough to serve your retribution for being a mistake, but it’s something. And you. Can’t. Do it. The anticipation of pain makes you cringe from the thought, makes your hand shake like a leaf in the wind. You’re supposed to be Karkat Vantas, BAMF extraordinaire. A failure, sure, but never a coward. So what’s come over you now?

You know you can take hurt. Hell knows you’ve dealt with quite a lot in your time. Is it the sentiment, the achingly slow build-up, of inflicting it yourself that makes this so hard?  
Okay, enough dilly-dallying. Focus. Deep breath. Swallow. The taste in your mouth is oddly metallic. Like the blood you so hate. The blood you’re about to draw.

You lower the blade to your wrist...

_ZAP_

The sudden noise makes you jump about a foot. The blade slips from your sweaty grip. You whirl about with a snarl.

Dark hair, no horns. Brown skin. Tall, looks several years older than you. Not a troll. Wide blue eyes looking at you curiously, so so blue you find yourself caught in them, can only stare back, growl dying in your throat.

He tilts his head at you after a long moment of extended eye contact. Smiles. “Hey, Karkat!”

You blink. Fear and confusion finally catch up with you and you scramble away, fumbling to snatch up the blade, turn on him the knife you had so recently directed at yourself. Shaking. What, how, why, who..?!

He grins without fear, steps closer easily despite the whole having a knife directed at him thing. “So, um. Oh! I’m John. Yeah. Um.” He casts his (seriously, how is it even that blue, not fair) gaze upwards, as if mulling over what to say. “I guess, well, this probably won’t make much sense, or any at all really!” He laughs a little. Nervous, judging by the tell tale sign of him tugging the corner of his shirt despite his seemingly easy smile. “And. Wow, I should’ve thought this through more.”

“No kidding,” you finally rasp. Heavy satire in spite of your absolute confusion. John (what kind of name even is that?) looks a bit startled by the sound of your voice. “Really, every time I zap into existence out of nowhere and scare the living daylights out of someone, I at least take the time to plan and go over what to say, maybe rehearse a little. Common courtesy, you know. And,” dryness increasing further, your words are as good as a desert really, “I’d _warn_ them.”

John starts to laugh, the stinklord. Deep and free, and oh no, he’s hot. No, stop, bad. “Oh my god dude, wooow. Only you would be able to go from in a suicidal state of mind to sassafrass in two seconds flat. Good lord.” His smile is warm, almost, _affectionate._ Something goes out of it at the word suicidal. You tense.

“What do you know about me?” you snap. _About me wanting to die._

“A lot, actually.” He sits down on the floor casually. You realize with a start you’ve relaxed from your defensive posture to sit normally. Oops. “You see… Okay, this is going to sound really weird, and I totally don’t blame you if you don’t believe me, but. I’m actually from the future.”

“...What.”

“I know! I know, but, like, yeah. Also, we’re like, in love and stuff. It’s awesome.”

“...Again, _what_.”

“And like, I’ve got these cool zappy powers and can go to different points in time and stuff, which is _so cool_ , and we play this game, and some sad stuff happens, and stuff… But, anyways! You’ll get to that point later. I’m just here because, like… Well, you have some scars, later. Like, from a different kind of battle than one with another person.”

“...Okay.” So you do go through with it, then? Huh. Supposing you believe this stranger, that is. That’s… strange. Yeah. Let’s go with that.

“So… That makes me really, really, sad, okay? Because…” He swallows, and for a moment you swear you can see a glimmer in those blueblue eyes. Welp. “Karkat, you’re like, really special, okay? Like. A lot. You’re the most amazing, ever. I. God. Please, don’t hurt yourself.” He twiddles his fingers, clasps them together. “So.. Yeah. That’s it, I guess? I don’t know, I just… I wanted to help, I guess, though that sounds kinda stupid.”

“No,” you blurt automatically. Immediately direct your gaze on the floor, flushing. Not sure if you believe him, but some part of you wants to… trust him, you guess? He seems nice, anyway, if probably some kind of hallucination. “I mean… Well, it is kind of stupid, actually. You’re right.”  
“Gee, thanks.” He sticks out his lower lip at you.

“...How old are you?” You ask him. He said something about you two becoming matesprits, and you may or may not be curious about how long it’ll be before you get to tap that.

“Hmm? Oh, seventeen.” He’s resting his chin on his hand and appears to be spacing out just looking at you. It makes you a little self conscious and a lot of warm all over.

“Seventeen??” You stare at him incredulously, finally realizing something isn’t right. “Okay, there is _no fucking way_.”

“Oh, right!” He blinks, straightens a little. “Uh, sorry, umm…” He thinks for a moment. “Probably.. eight sweeps.”

Two whole sweeps to wait? Ugh, oh well. If this _is_ real, you have got a lot to look forward to. “Can I ask you something?”

“Mhmm?” John tilts his head.

“You aren’t a troll, right?”  
“Nah.”

“Then, what are you?”

“That’s a professional secret, pal.” He winks playfully. You wrinkle your nose.

“Okayy, then… Could you tell me the trends of the troll stock market in the next couple years?”

John looks confused for a moment before laughing uproariously. “Sorry, buddy. Can’t help ya there either”

“Ughhh, you are _culling_ me here, damn it.” Glower at him for a moment, then look at your hands. “Then… why me?” Softer now.

It takes a moment for him to catch your drift. When he does, his gaze softens. His smile is both playful and sincere. “So, so many reasons, love. Just you wait.” The moment is totally ruined when he backpedals.

“Wait, is it weird to call you that? I’m used to it, but you’re like twelve or something right now, right? Yeah, that’s weird.”

“I’m almost six, idiot!” You roll your eyes. Honestly, this hot alien is so fucking weird.

“Right.” He giggles, scoots closer, His eyes get serious. Aw jeez. The mood is going back and forth between sentimental and ridiculous so rapidly it’s making your head hurt. “But, seriously, Karkat… Don’t hurt yourself. Please. It’s hard now, but it really is going to get better. Even if that seems impossible. I promise.”

It feels way too cheesy to be real. You’ve always been a romantic, so it wouldn’t be far-fetched to think this a dream your ridiculous sentimentality thought up in a moment of stress. Still… It feels so real. So weird, to be loved so much.

“Okay.” It doesn’t sound like your own voice, rather someone softer, someone vulnerable and lovestruck. Oh god.

His smile widens, and he leans in. You swear he’s going to… But then he hastily redirects to kiss your cheek again, quickly pulls back. “Wow, okay! That almost got illegal, and _way_ over the line of my own moral standards. Sorry. I, uh… I should probably go.”  
“...Yeah.” A lot of you really, _really_ fucking doesn’t want him to, but you can’t keep letting yourself get swept away by him. You’re going to need a cold washing in the ablution trap after this to clear your head.

“Well… bye.” He looks like he has a lot more to say, but he doesn’t say it. He glides a few feet in the air slowly before disappearing with another _ZAP._

You sit looking on for a long, long time.

\---

You topple lightly to the floor, blink, a little bit spaced out. Wow, okay. So, that was a thing you just did. Gosh, you sure hope it worked. What if there are unforeseen consequences? What if… What if when you enter the next room, your bedroom, Karkat isn’t there at all? That would _suck_.

Well, it would suck if the butterfly effect made him like, die, or something, anyway. Then you would absolutely go back and stop yourself from warning him, or something. It would suck if you prevented his hurts but he wasn’t with you, but you could leave that as is. Reluctantly. Karkat being happy is much more important than whether he’s happy with you.

Still, your hand is shaking a little as you finally rise and open your bedroom door.

A loud snore greets you. Relief pours over you like you just did the ALS ice bucket challenge, only with reassurance somehow escaping the laws of physics so that a emotion can be in a bucket and dumped all over you. Wait, what??

Regardless, the grumpy troll is lying asleep as always, thank god. You needn’t worry about that. Only one thing left to check.

You step towards him slowly, keeping your footsteps light. You could glide, but the anticipation is making your stomach swoop, and a part of you wants to delay the inevitable. So you focus on other Karkatty things and try not to think about it.

He’s in boxers and an oversized shirt, snuggling a pillow even though it must me eighty degrees in here. His form is sprawled haphazardly across the bed, covers tangled about him more permanently than any boyscout’s knot. Face smushed against the pillow, only half of it visible. He’s gnawing on his snugglebuddy a little bit between snores, a habit of his you find both endearing and frustrating. Increasingly the latter with how many new pillows you’ve had to purchase, but you’re in a forgiving mood at the moment, so you neglect to yank the thing from his grip. Rather, you opt to bend over and kiss his horn lightly. Continue dotting light kisses across his face until he squirms, and you know you can no longer delay the inevitable.

Your hand shakes slightly as your fingertips skim his arm. With a featherlight touch, you pull back his sleeve.

Unmarked arms greet your watery eyes. You release a broken sob from sheer relief.

A very confused Karkat soon wakes to find you crying at hugging his arm close. He complains about you getting snot on his wrist when he’s awake enough to bitch, and it only makes you cry harder and squeeze tighter.

“Gyahk stop it what the hell are you doing Jesus fuck John let go of me _my fucking arm cannot breath_ it is going to die just as useless a death as a child unknowingly shoving its head in a plastic bag John seriously what the fuck are you okay damn it.”

You would like to introduce Miley Cyrus to Karkat, because she was _seriously_ wrong when she sang that nobody’s perfect. He is the perfectest thing ever, and the torrent of words escaping him, a mix of love and annoyance, just make you adore him all the more.

“Sorry!” You manage to gasp eventually, your voice still wavering from your meltdown. “I.. I, uh, had a bad dream.” This is not an uncommon occurrence for either of you, but he still looks suspicious. After all, when you have a dream it usually leads to Karkat waking in the night and finding you marathoning films to get your mind off it, and when he has a nightmare it usually leads to a lot of flailing on his part and scratches on your form, and a lot of hugging after the fact. This sobbing snotfest is out of the norm.

“John, seriously, what the shit is-”

“Don’t you trust me?” you cut him off, casting him a sincere gaze from below, as you are kneeling on the floor whilst clinging to him tightly. His eyes waver.

“Fuck, of course I do, but-”  
“Big mistake!!” You tug and cast a gust of wind on his back, causing him to unceremoniously topple to the floor… right on top of you. Ow. Maybe you could have planned that better. It’s worth a little soreness, though, to have the little troll writhing on top of you with renewed rage as you quite literally cover him with kisses. So, so freaking worth it.


End file.
